


Agents of P.A.I.N.I.N.T.H.E.A.S.S.

by respoftw



Series: Tumblr Prompts - Hawksilver edition [48]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Getting Together, M/M, SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked:</p><p>au where Pietro and Wanda actually DO find S.H.I.E.L.D. and get help/training/enhancement from them, and their S.O./eventual handler is Clint</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agents of P.A.I.N.I.N.T.H.E.A.S.S.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isisanubis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisanubis/gifts).



It's payback, he knows it is. Payback for all those nights Phil spent not knowing if he was alive or dead because he failed to check in. Payback for the fact that Phil's hairline had been significantly further forward before Clint Barton came into his life (and if this little experiment ended up with Clint losing his hair then a certain someone's Captain America memorabilia collection might just end up flushed down the toilet.)

 

In truth, he only has himself to blame. He'd been given the choice. The fast one, or the weird one.

 

God, Clint wishes he'd chosen Wanda.

 

*

 

Watching as Pietro narrowly missed being cut down by a blast of gunfire gave Clint a whole new appreciation of just how stressful Coulson's job had been. The helpless feeling that came from watching their charges place themselves in dangerous situations while he sat idly by on the comms, commanding the mission, was a new one to Clint, every inch of him itching to get out there and help. Still, it was a vital part of the training and Clint felt something surprisingly like pride as he watched Pietro blindside his opponent, taking him down without breaking a sweat before running to reach the....oh, no, fuck, running right past the next turn off and breaking from mission instructions.

 

“Agent Silver! You missed the damn turning, get your ass back to the alley way and proceed as agreed.” Clint resolutely ignores Coulson's disapproving looks as he swears at Pietro over the comms. _Like he'd never lost his rag at Clint during an op._

 

“I know a short cut.” Pietro's cocky, arrogant, ~~surprisingly sexy~~ Sokovian accent crackled over the speaker.

 

“Agent Silver, I order you to - - “

 

The hiss of static and the crunch of what was unmistakably Pietro's earpiece being thrown to the ground interrupted the beginnings of Clint's tirade, stunning him, only Coulson's cough-smothered laughter breaking the silence.

 

“Roger that, Agent Scarlet.” Natasha's calm voice broke through Clint's disbelief as she spoke to her own operative over the comms. “Nice job. You even came close to beating my time. You have my permission to wait around on your brother reaching the target and make him feel like the loser that he is.”

 

She signs off and gracefully unfolds from the cramped seat, smirking at Clint as she opens the van doors to go and congratulate Wanda in person. Coulson isn't even attempting to hide his laughter any more.

 

God, Clint wishes he'd chosen Wanda.

 

*

 

Clint circles the mat, glaring at a far-too-amused looking Pietro. “Your short-cut added an extra six minutes onto your run time. And you disobeyed a direct order. Your final time was a joke and....” he trails off, thinking it wise not to mention that the most annoying part of the simulated mission failure was the fact that Pietro had made him look bad in front of Natasha and Coulson.

 

That infuriating smirk was still firmly in place and Clint's bow fingers were tingling with the need to shoot it off his stupidly perfect face. Luckily his next words did the trick without the disciplinary action that actually shooting his agent-in-training would have gotten him. “No more missions. Not until I say you're ready. Now, drop and give me two-hundred.”

 

Clint worked him hard for the rest of the week, not-so-secretly enjoying the pained glares and weary sighs that Pietro threw his way as he was pushed to his physical limits day after day. It's possible that making a crack about stamina on day five was taking it a bit too far.

 

“I'd like to see you keep up with me, old man.” Pietro spat out the challenge and well, Clint was never one that could back down from the chance to show someone up.

 

God knows how many hundreds of push-ups, squats, chin-ups and sit-ups later he was regretting ever joining S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place. _How the hell did this kid still have the energy to keep going after the week Clint had put him through?_

 

He tried to hold out, he really did but enough was enough. “OK,” he huffed out. “Let's call it a day.” He at least managed to wait until Pietro had headed for the showers before collapsing on to the gym floor in a puddle, although the rolling laughter he heard drifting on the air told him that he hadn't fooled the kid at all.

 

God, Clint wishes he'd chosen Wanda.

 

*

 

Strapping Pietro's wrists down as the kid prepared to face Fury's lie detector machine was an exercise in self-contol. Pietro's normally constant expression of snark and amusement was clouded by nerves. He doesn't think anyone else in the room can see it, but Clint knows Pietro in a way that they can't. The preceding months of training and mentoring may have been a giant pain in the ass but Clint can honestly say that he knows Pietro better than almost anyone now.

 

He knows his breaking point, which buttons to press to elicit the desired reaction, his likely response to any given mission scenario. All the things that a SO should know. And maybe some other things, like his insistence that pizza should only be eaten cold, his love of cat videos despite being allergic to the furry little shits, the fact that this test is making him nervous.

 

“Don't worry,” Clint murmurs just low enough that the lab techs won't hear. “No-one expects you to beat this, Fury designed this himself, not even Natasha can fool this thing.”

 

Pietro's shoulders relax minutely and Clint reluctantly steps out of the room to watch the test from the gallery.

 

The questions vary from the mundane (although Clint is delighted to find out that Pietro's middle name is Django) to the brutal (Natasha had to restrain Clint to stop him breaking into the test room to rip the head off the lab tech who asked Pietro about the deaths of his parents) to the inappropriate. When asked who the last person he had fantasised about sexually, Pietro's eyes somehow managed to lock on Clint's through the two-way mirror before his lips curled up in a familiar smirk.

 

“Clinton Francis Barton.”

 

Clint curses and flips a chuckling Natasha the bird before stalking out the room in annoyance. He never did look at the monitors to see if Pietro was lying or not.

 

God, Clint wishes he'd chosen Wanda.

 

*

 

No-one likes to speak about the honey-pot missions. Clint hates them and the thought of Pietro working one makes his chest ache in a way that he isn't quite ready to think about.

 

Unfortunately they're a necessary expectation of any Agent, so they need to be trained how to work them. Clint had volunteered to be the target for Pietro's training because the thought of Sitwell doing it almost made him throw up. He's not sure that he knew what level of hell he was letting himself in for.

 

Pietro's touch is light as a feather, teasing, as his fingers pluck a stray eye-lash off Clint's face, his hands suddenly impossibly close as he holds the eyelash in front of Clint's mouth, asking him to blow and make a wish.

 

Clint blows the eyelash away, a shiver of pleasure running down his spine as he watches Pietro's pupils dilate as the warm, tickling breath washes over his skin. Clint acts on instinct, sucking Pietro's offered finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digit like a promise of things to come.

 

Pietro leans into him, body shaking with need and whispers in Clint's ear. “I think you maybe gave me an easy target, Sir.”

 

Goddamnit, Clint wishes he'd chosen Wanda.

 

*

 

He doesn't know how long he's been tied to this chair, all his mind is aware of is pain. There's physical pain, of course. The knife in his thigh, the ripped out fingernails, the broken ribs, they all hurt, but they pale in comparison to the pain of not knowing whether Pietro had managed to escape capture.

 

His first reaction when he sees Pietro walk into the room is one of despair. _No, please, don't let them hurt him too._

 

Pietro rushes towards him, hands shaky and fumbling as he tries to undo the ropes holding Clint captive, babbling away to Clint in a relieved mixture of Sokovian and English. 

 

“Quick, we need to leave. Now.” Natasha is at the doorway, cool and calmly trying to hurry Pietro the hell up.

 

“You...you're here to rescue me?” Clint asks, still dazed from the pain and dehydration.

 

“Of course I am.” Pietro gently brings his mouth to Clint's, a kiss that's full of need and want and promise. “Idiot.”

 

All things considered, Clint's really glad he chose Pietro.

 


End file.
